


1968

by templeg



Series: Formative Years [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Hospital, Post-werewolf bite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:04:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templeg/pseuds/templeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus post-werewolf bite in St Mungo's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1968

At first, all he sees is white.

 

Time passes. It might be an hour, or a day; it’s difficult to tell. The only thing that changes is that the whiteness starts to break up, forming vague shapes that eventually morph into indistinct white figures, moving between beds. He notices that they stop less at his bed than at others, and he can sense a certain discomfort when they do, briefness in the way they smooth his sheets, relief when they turn away.

 

He can’t make out words, only a hum that rises and falls as they come and go. Slowly he begins to distinguish recognisable sounds, syllables, and he struggles to make them form words, but nothing.

 

The first complete sentence he forms in his head is; _My parents haven’t come._

 

Then, _They don’t want to come._

He remembers, indistinct but still harsh against the surrounding sterility, a huge shape lunging at him, something tearing, pain, something wet. Hair. He tries to makes sense of it, but everything fades again and he sinks back into oblivion.

 

The next thing he hears is his name.

 

It’s his mother’s voice. He tries to reply, but she isn’t talking to him.

 

‘His _name_ is Remus.’

 

‘Mrs Lupin, this is very normal in tragic cases like this. Our Healers have found that it’s best not to use the name.’

 

 _The_ name. It seems wrong, but he can’t remember why. He loses the next thing she says trying to puzzle it out.

 

‘I understand how hard it must be, but it’s best to think of this as a bereavement.’

 

He knows that word. He learned it out of his father’s big dictionary, along with _equestrian_ and _attribution._ It means that someone has died. But he isn’t dead, is he? Is this what death is?

 

‘My son is not dead.’ Her voice is hard in a way he’s never heard before. It makes him shiver.

 

‘Hospital policy in these cases is to…let things take their natural course. It’s really the kindest thing. It might be best if you tried to think of him that way.’

 

There’s a pause, during which Remus feels something cold settle over him, like a spiderweb.

 

‘Mrs Lupin, if he lives, he won’t be your son.’

 

 _If I’m not her son, then who am I?_ , Remus thinks, and everything goes white again.

**Author's Note:**

> It's concerning how long it took me to think of 'big words' eight-year-old Remus might have learned.
> 
> I suspect that no-one will read this since I can't in good conscience tag it Remus/Sirius (although if there are ever more in the series they will be). Ah well. Which of my fics I like rarely correlates with which other people like.


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